Hi ho, A zombies life to me
by liliaeth
Summary: A set of ten drabbles, randomly taking place in the life of the zombie Spider-Man


**Universe:Marvel Zombies  
Character/Pairing/Group/Series:Spider-Man  
Table:Table 4:Horror**

Just a series of drabbles in no particular chronological order based on the Marvel Zombies miniseries

**01 Monster **

He landed down on the ground and the beings ran screaming. Parents tried to push their children away from him. Or at least he thought they were children. It didn't matter, it couldn't matter. Jokes raced off his tongue as he tore into them. Their blood felt wrong, it wasn't human and that was even more sickening, that only human flesh truly felt right.

Then someone grabbed up two of the people, desperately flying them to safety. But there was no safety. Not here, not now. Not when Giant Man grabbed entire buses with the aliens up from the ground and let them fall between his lips like candy.

"Monster." They called him. He didn't know how he understood their words, he figured it was a part of the power cosmic. It would be easier if he didn't. Easier if he could try not to think of them as people, while he tore at their flesh and bit into their fragile bones.

The hero joked as he raced into the fight. Dressed in garish colors, wearing a cape that was far too easily grabbed at. The best Peter could do for him, was to kill him before he bit in. At least he, she, it would never know what it was like to be a monster. Would never see that fear in it's own people's eyes as he she it, tore into their flesh.

"I'm sorry." Peter couldn't even say the words as he tore into the beings flesh. It hadn't been dead long enough to be useless and it eased the huger for a second.

The beings stared at him. He wished they'd taken the time to run. It would have given them no more than seconds, but at least it would have given the heroes sacrifice some meaning.

* * *

**02 Nightmare **

They didn't sleep. That was one of those weird things you just didn't get used to no matter how much time you spent as a zombie. In was probably a good thing. It meant that you didn't have to face your victims in your dreams.

It meant that you kept going, visiting planet after planet. (leaving nothing but empty husks once you were through), and it meant you had more time to do the things you never really wanted to be doing in the first place.

They didn't dream. They didn't have to; they were already living their worst nightmare.

* * *

**03 Vampire **

Morbius had been so surprised when they bit into him. He'd been eying the remains of their victims like the parasite he was. The vampire had thought himself safe. Honor amongst monsters and all that. Silly vampire, he should have known better. Peter managed to bite into his arm before the vampire got away. Morbius should have remembered the 'living' part of his name. Any life meat was fair game.

Dead meat on the other hand, ugh, he glared at the zombies that rose up as they marched up to Doom's castle. Who would ever want to eat a zombie?

* * *

**04 Killer **

Jonah was writing an editorial. He'd been right all along. There was no such thing as heroes, just monsters reined in by society. Especially him, Spider-Man. He was probably responsible for all this. He always was.

Robbie had yelled at him to come down with him, they were going to try and escape. But that wasn't Jonah's way. No, he was a reporter first and foremost. They had to write the news, even if most of his reporters were running away. Someone had to tell the news, had to let the world know he'd been right all along.

And then he stood there, the right eyehole in his mask broken. He lifted up his mask and there were pieces of meat still sticking between his gums. Jonah shivered. He'd been right, all along.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

He'd been right, Spider-Man was a monster, a killer. His killer.

So why did he look at that dead eye behind the mask and grieve for the hero he'd known Spider-Man to be all along.

He was right, so why did he want to be wrong.

Then he felt teeth in his throat.

Oh yes, that's why.

* * *

**05 Psycho **

Hank seemed almost happy to bite in. Enjoying what they did, laughing as he ate. But then, so did he. It's what they were now. Logan didn't even seem all that different, just that his claws now cut through children as easy as adults.

Psycho, menace, killer, the words didn't fit. But then, what better words to describe the kind of monster that would eat his own wife and mother.

Hank was cold, logical and Peter stood there for a moment, lingering in horrified memory. A little girl almost got away while he did.

"Spidey?" she whispered as he looked at him, as he raised his mask, his rotted skin peeling slightly with every time he did so. He should just stop wearing it. But he couldn't, not as long as there were still mirrors and reflections in the world..

She wore a shirt with his picture on it. It splattered with blood as easily as his costume. Her hand went limp and a figure fell, and cracked as it hit the pavement. It was a Spdier-Man doll, one of the ones he'd never gotten even a bit of royalties for.

What kind of psycho would do this?

He would.

* * *

**06 Death **

You got used to death so easily, when you were well dead. Or undead. Peter never figured it out. Reed had said they were merely 'evolved'. Fancy way to say they'd been turned into undead monsters with a voracious appetite for human flesh. They were dead, deader, deadly, yet death, permanent death seemed to be the one thing denied to them.

They could be harmed, destroyed even, yet they kept on going like a pair of energizer bunnies. Twisted energizer bunnies.

"Pete stop whining and deal those cards already."

Pete grumbled, and looked at his set, dead man's hand. Typical.

* * *

**07 Bleeding **

Peter stared at the way his body was almost sliced in two. And yet he was still here. His body was barely even bleeding. Black Panther's people were trying to fix him up, pull the pierces back together and sew them tight.

Peter looked away from the scientist. It worried him, what if the man got infected? He couldn't understand the lack of fear, so he made silly jokes.

Peter's heart stopped when he'd realized the truth, that they could have stopped all of this on the first day, if they'd just been smart enough to lock themselves up. If they'd fought the hunger a little bit more and just stopped eating, they could have saved billions upon billions of lives.

It added onto his guilt that he didn't just kill himself as soon as Colonel America bit him. He should have let the weird guy shoot him, at least then he wouldn't be living with the memory of MJ's face when he…

It was strange how the body remembered what it felt like to throw up, even when there was nothing in his body to be thrown out. Even when his throat wasn't even connected to his stomach anymore.

* * *

**08 Grave **

Peter stood back as they stared at the graves in front of them. Was it a bad thing that the only one whose death he was truly sad about was Reynolds? And they hadn't been allowed at that man's funeral, for good reason. Nobody trusted them, once again, for good reason, it was best if people didn't trust them.

Hank was a fool believing they could be heroes again. All Peter could think to do, was try and help, but what he really wanted was for them to be put on trial and punished for their crimes.

There were billions of graves, most of them unmarked, with the remains slammed together to get them out of the way. Far too many of them so mixed up that most people wouldn't even know which body belonged to whom.

What right did they have to put names on their graves when so many of the innocent had been left with nothing, but filth and fire?

Peter had gone away from the others as soon as they could bother to miss him. He'd swung through the city, trying to find his old apartment, but the memory had been gone too long. And he couldn't remember enough to even find the building. Why was it that a million memories of his first day played his mind a thousand times a day, yet he couldn't bring himself to think of those few little details that would help him find 'them'.

So instead he went to the Bugle and scratched a memorial for all the people he'd known in the walls of the building. All the people he'd killed. He had no tears. There weren't any left for his body to shed.

May's name stood etched in his blood. He couldn't even remember Mary Jane's last name.

* * *

**09 Zombie **

Peter stared at Peter and had to fight the urge to throw up. Was that him as a zombie? It was a sickening thought. The zombies had appeared on the middle of Times Square an hour ago and people had started running in terror, not until half a minute after getting a baffled look of them.

It was a lucky thing that none of the zombies had tried anything. Peter wondered about his counter parts appearance. He didn't dare to come too close. After the Skrulls and the Hulk, this was the third time that pro- and anti-regs stood on the same side against a common threat. Or a potential one at least.

His other self seemed to be trying to ignore him, sitting next to the dead Luke Cage, who was still sporting his afro. Luke had been embarrassed enough about that one. Or what about Giant Man with half his head blown of, and Wasp who was nothing but a head on a metal body. What even kept them going? He couldn't figure it out.

Zombies? For crying out loud. What came next? Pirates? His other self seemed to have lost the leg for it at the least.

* * *

**10 Ouji**

They were going to get their trial.

It's a strange thought, something to look forward to, even in this world, where the lot of them had never been before and hadn't committed a single crime. They were locked up in solitary cells with comfortable beds that none of them slept in, given food, that none of them touched and kept out of touch of anyone; that they tried not to think of eating.

The cells were supposed to keep their powers down. Peter didn't know if it worked, he didn't care enough to check it out. So he sat there in his cell, staring at the guards passing them by in between reading Garfield or watching Saturday Morning cartoons.

They even let him watch that Pirates of the Caribean movie. He remembered wanting to see that one before the infection. He could empathize with the skeleton crew, some things you just… missed.

He pulled of his mask, not even caring who saw his face, who'd recognize his dead face? His fingers touched his teeth, he wished they'd given him a tooth brush. But then he might push out teeth.

Peter wondered who they'd ask as witnesses of their genocide. Would they use an Ouija board and summon up the souls of their victims? Peter wondered if they'd call up MJ, at least that way he might tell her how sorry he was.

Nah, better not, she'd just turn away from him. What woman could possibly be expected to be understanding about being torn apart, let out being eaten? Even Mary Jane wasn't that accepting of his alternative lifestyle.

"Hi ho hi ho, it's the zombies' life for me."

Peter laughed as he sang the tune; when the guards all aimed their guns at him; it just made him sing louder.


End file.
